


Saving The Boy Who Lived

by subtextismygod



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Battle of Hogwarts, Draco pov, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, draco and harry have been dating for a while, seventh book AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-17 01:14:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19943464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtextismygod/pseuds/subtextismygod
Summary: "I was a fool to believe that Potter would risk his life to save them,” Voldemort said, stroking his wand with his long fingers. He seemed almost sad that he could not use it against Harry.“That’s where you’re wrong.”





	Saving The Boy Who Lived

The forest was dark. So dark. Hagrid, Care of Magical Creatures teacher and an oaf that Draco had grown to like, was tied to a tree, crying quietly. There was only one reason where Draco was there, though. 

Voldemort had made the magical announcement almost an hour before. Harry Potter must give himself up to die, or all of Hogwarts would be massacred. And as soon as Draco heard it, he had raced to Narcissa’s--  _ Voldemort’s _ \-- side. They all assumed that he either was trying to save himself or that he truly believed in the Dark Lord’s cause.

But he was there for a different reason. 

He was there because he was going to save Harry Potter.

He and Harry had… it was complicated. Ever since Harry dragged him into a secret passage behind a statue and kissed him hard, they had been in a relationship so secret that only two people knew about it. Draco, and Harry.

But then, Harry had run off. No one quite knew why, but he had left. And Draco had been alone. He had been beaten by the Carrows who knew that he liked boys, he had been forced to hide scars and bruises from everyone he cared about: Pansy, Blaise, even the Weasleys. Even Longbottom. He worked from the shadows, making sure the Carrows saw him writing a letter addressed to a boy he made up so that they beat him senseless instead of Longbottom or Ginny or anyone else. And not a single person knew. Not a single person, except Draco.

After everyone had assumed Harry was dead, he had returned to Hogwarts. Draco tried to pursue him, to ask him if he was alright, but Harry only followed the Lovegood girl and Granger and Weasel Weasley around, not even noticing his presence. Draco had assumed that Harry just didn’t care for him anymore.

It wasn’t a hard conclusion to make.

But, even if Harry didn’t care for him, Draco cared for Harry, and he was prepared to die for him if that’s what it came to. 

He knew Harry, even if he wished he didn’t. He knew that Harry would give up his life if it meant saving the school. He wouldn’t even fight back, just stand there and let himself die. And, despite himself, despite the people that would die if Harry didn’t face Voldemort, Draco found himself hoping that Harry would run away.

The hour passed, with every heartbeat echoing in Draco’s ears acting as a clock, ticking steadily faster and faster as the end grew nearer and nearer. Then, it was up, and Harry hadn’t come. Draco breathed thanks to whatever god had decided to smile upon him. That whatever god was up there, it was somehow a good god to him, and cared, if even a little.

“Such a pity,” the Dark Lord said in his high voice and cruel tone. “I really did think he would come.” 

“Enough games, my Lord. It is time to destroy the boy and their pathetic school,” Yaxley suggested. “We must take action, lest they believe we are weak.”

“Perhaps you are right, Yaxley. I was a fool to believe that Potter would risk his life to save them.” Voldemort stroked his wand-- no,  _ Dumbledore’s  _ wand-- with long fingers. He seemed almost sad that he could not use it against Harry. 

“That’s where you’re wrong.” 

No.

Oh, please, Merlin, no.

Whatever god was up there, he wasn’t kind. No, not at all. He delighted in pain, it seemed. Any god must if they were to give Draco hope, then snatch it away while laughing.

There was a sob that tried to burst forth as Harry walked into the clearing. A sob that turned into a gargled choke that he tried to pass as a laugh. Nobody even looked his way. 

Nobody, that is, except Harry. 

His eyes moved to the source of the noise and locked onto Draco. A million emotions flashed there, but Draco couldn’t make them all out. All he saw was Harry’s face as the boy he loved believed that Draco had betrayed him, everything he believed in. He only saw the broken look in Harry’s eyes as tears sprung into them unbidden, as if he was unwilling to believe that Draco was there. He only wished that Harry knew why he was there. Not because he supported Voldemort, but because he supported Harry. 

“Harry Potter,” Voldemort said, a snakelike smile slithering onto his pale face. “Come to die?” Harry threw his wand aside in answer, eyes still locked onto Draco. Voldemort followed his gaze. “Aah, I see. Draco, would you step forward?” 

Draco couldn’t argue as he walked towards Harry and Voldemort, willing Harry to look into his eyes and see that he truly cared about Harry, not Voldemort and his plans. 

_ Please,  _ he begged,  _ please look at me _ .  _ Really, truly,  _ look. But Harry just averted his eyes, as if just the sight of Draco disgusted him. 

“Draco here made a wise choice. Joined me and my Death Eaters. A smart boy, isn’t he, Potter?” Harry didn’t say a word, but Draco had known him long enough and well enough to sense the meaning behind his silence.

_ How could you?  _ Harry said.  _ How could you side with the man that killed my parents, killed so many others? Did you even ever really care? _

_ Yes _ , Draco wanted to say.  _ I did care. I still do care. Please, just look at me.  _

“Return to your mother, Draco. Have a better view as I win.” Voldemort ordered. Draco stepped back and Voldemort raised his wand. He wanted to look away. Narcissa’s hand rested on his shoulder. 

So quietly, he wondered if he had imagined it, he heard her say one word. “ _ Imperio _ .” 

Every muscle in his body stiffened as he lost control entirely.  _ Don’t move _ , the voice in his mind told him. It was Narcissa’s voice. 

“Not even going to fight back, are you, Potter?” Voldemort asked. He raised his wand, victory glinting in his eyes. “ _ CRUCIO!”  _

Harry screamed, well and truly screamed, and Draco could tell that he had tried to keep the screams in, to stay silent, but the pain inflicted was just too much. Draco wanted to scream, his mind was screaming, and tears would have rolled down his face if the voice hadn’t commanded him to not cry.  _ Do nothing. Do not move, do not cry, do not speak.  _

But inside, Draco was screaming and thrashing against his mother’s bonds, trying to get to Harry, trying to save him. “ _CRUCIO!”_ Voldemort screeched again, and Harry’s screams increased tenfold, his shrieks penetrating every inch of Draco’s body, heart, soul, until Draco was wracked with sobs that he couldn’t sob, and screams that he couldn’t scream. 

It hurt him more than any words could describe, as he watched the boy he had found and fallen in love with scream like they were ripping him apart inside and out. He screamed like someone had taken out his very essence and was toying with it, all the while flames danced around his body and devoured any inch of sanity he had left. A person could go mad being tortured like this.

Harry went limp as Voldemort flicked his wand, the spell deactivating. His entire body was shuddering with spasms, his body still feeling the phantom ghosts of pain.  _ Don’t move _ , the voice commanded again.  _ Don’t move. Don’t close your eyes. Watch, and seem like you enjoy it.  _ The simple word ‘enjoy’ was foreign to Draco. How could he enjoy watching Harry be tortured senseless and until even his screams couldn’t hold out any longer?

“ _ Imperio, _ ” Voldemort said, a hiccup in his voice as if he was drunk on his own power. Maybe he was. Hate, pure, unbridled hate towards Voldemort flowed through him as what made Harry  _ Harry  _ just… left his eyes.

Harry stood, the Imperius Curse ordering him to stand as it was ordering Draco to stand perfectly still and silent. 

“I have waited my entire life for this moment, Harry Potter,” Voldemort said, twirling his wand ever so slightly. “Now, finally, I get to see it fulfilled. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Time to die.”

“ _ AVADA KEDAVRA!”  _

The clearing flashed with green light as the spell struck right in Harry’s ribs, sending him flying backward. His back slammed against a tree and he fell limply to the ground. 

Every part of Draco screamed in-- he didn’t even know what. It was as if his entire heart had been ripped to shreds and he could feel actual pains in his chest as his body screamed and tugged and thrashed against his bonds that he could feel Narcissa struggling to maintain. He wanted to scream Harry’s name, scream it like his world had been torn away from him because it had. All it took was two words and a flash of light before the Boy Who Lived had died.

His entire body ached from screams and shouts and sobs that he was forced to contain, his body almost as limp as Harry’s as he couldn’t help but stare at his dead body. 

The clearing erupted in cheers, and the Imperius Curse forced Draco to cheer and applaud as well. But Voldemort was not satisfied. “Narcissa, check the body. Be sure he is dead.” 

Everything was silent as Narcissa crept forward to the body. Draco’s heartbeat shuddered weakly, it had nothing left in it to shriek or cry for Harry, it had all come and gone in one swift movement. 

The entire forest held its breath as Narcissa went to Harry and had her hand over his nose, checking for breath. Somehow, perhaps through the Imperius Curse, he could hear what she said.  _ Draco is safe _ , she told Harry.

Then, she stood. “The boy is dead,” she proclaimed. 

Whatever last hope had been kept on a string just… fluttered away. 

_ No. _

The voice echoed in his head. It wasn’t Narcissa’s, it was his. Draco’s voice. 

The hold that the Imperius Curse had on him lessened slightly.

_ NO. _

And then it vanished completely. 

Everything Draco did in that moment felt like it took an eternity.

He wrapped his fingers around his wand.

He channeled all that anger and hate and fury and rage into a single spell that he sent shooting towards Voldemort. The Dark Lord whipped around and deflected it, sending a ball of red light towards him. Even though Draco could have, he didn’t shield from the spell. He just let the Cruciatus Curse slam into him, but the pain he felt was nothing compared to what he had just experienced. He even welcomed it, welcomed the pain that enveloped him like Harry’s arms had used to. It made him feel something other than that emptiness that threatened to take over him wholly.

His screams were silent, but tears streamed down his face and down his neck and wetting the collar of his robes, the Slytherin tie dampening so slightly. He remembered what it was like when he and Harry had almost switched ties, had almost walked into the Great Hall with the wrong ties and told the world. 

A wave of pain washed over him anew, and he screamed for real this time. He screamed a scream so raw, so filled with anguish and despair and misery and heartbreak that it shattered whatever piece of soul that Draco had left. He let himself be taken by the pain, hoping that the more he felt, the closer he was to Harry. 

Narcissa was screaming, he realized, but he let her.  _ Let her scream _ , his mind said bitterly.  _ She kept me from saving Harry. Let her scream.  _

And Draco did. He screamed himself, let his scream be filled with pain, this time, as to cause her more pain and heart-wrenching sorrow than ever before.  _ Let her feel what I felt. _

He felt no remorse. 

He felt nothing.

An explosion threw the clearing into disarray. Draco was released from the spell and he collapsed to the ground, his body still thrashing as pain lanced up his bones and arms. It didn’t even occur to him to wonder who cast the spell until he looked up and saw Harry.

He felt so many things in such a short moment. Disbelief. Confusion. Joy.

And one last thing, one thing that rocked his world from every point where Harry was there. One last emotion that shot straight into his heart and stayed there, warming him like a cup of tea or a warm blanket.

Love.

Draco breathed out Harry’s name, not trusting himself to say anything other than the one constant in his life. Almost on instinct, their hands met and twined together, Draco feeling the skin riddled with calluses and new scabs and scars that hadn’t been there before. What had Harry gone through in the year where he was gone? 

The simple touch anchored Draco back to reality, where the entire clearing was wracked with flames and explosions. 

Narcissa.

She flung spells every which way, some of them meeting their targets, and some flying past and hitting nothing but air. But she took on three, four,  _ five  _ Death Eaters, her eyes livid and her face a mask of deadly calm.

“We have to run,” Harry said. “We need to get out of here. Only one Horcrux left.” He said that last bit more to himself, but the word hit a chord. He had heard the term before with his father. The term used for the darkest of magics, the process of splitting one's soul through murder and death. 

“How are you alive?” He wanted so badly for it to be real, for Harry to be alive and to have survived, somehow. “How can you be here?” 

“Later, I’ll tell you everything.” Harry looked into Draco’s steely grey eyes, a fire of urgency and intensity flickering in his emerald ones. It made Draco’s heart flutter just a little bit because he had seen a similar expression before. In  _ much  _ different circumstances. “Now, we need to run.” 

He didn’t even wait for Draco’s response, just trusted him to blindly follow and trust him. And, that, that one small gesture, was the core of their relationship. Harry trusted Draco to follow him and believe in him even when he himself did not. And Draco? Draco would follow without question, every time. Because…

“Harry, I need to say something,” he panted, barely able to get the words out. 

“Not the time.” 

Draco grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him behind a large tree to shield them. He didn’t even think, he just pushed Harry into it and kissed him hard, deeply, as if it was the last kiss they would ever share. Because, a moment ago, Draco believed that he would ever live in a world with Harry again.

Harry made a small noise of surprise, both in content and shock. He hungrily kissed Draco back, the mayhem of the forest around them forgotten for the blissful moment.

And, it sealed everything. Harry was alive, because everything was right and Draco felt like he could take on Voldemort without a wand and win. He felt… invincible.

He pulled away, gasping for the breath that had been sucked out of him in the moment. “I can’t live like this. A moment ago, you were dead and I couldn’t say this, and I would have never forgiven myself if I couldn’t save you.

“So damn Voldemort, damn the Carrows, damn the Death Eaters, and damn the rest of the world. I love you, Harry Potter. Never forget that, okay? I love you.” 

He knew what he had to do. Thinking back, he was pretty sure he had known since Harry came back to life for the second time. Harry was the Boy Who Lived. It was his destiny to defeat Voldemort. He was the most important person in human history.

But Draco wasn’t. In the future, Professor Binns wouldn’t teach about some Slytherin that has betrayed the Dark Lord. Draco wouldn’t be remembered, his only legacy the little image on the Black-Malfoy family tree in Number 12 Grimmauld Place. 

Draco was dispensable.

Harry seemed to catch on a moment later. His eyes widened and the intense flame in them snapped out and was replaced with panic. “No, Draco,  _ no— _ ”

The world turned slowly. There was a quote that he had heard once, that when the mountain is all rubble and dust, a second of eternity would have passed. A second of his time felt like a million seconds of eternity, as he stepped out of the cover of the tree. 

“Run, Harry.”

He was the only thing in between Voldemort and Harry Potter. He hoped that one day, Professor Binns would mention a forgotten Malfoy boy, and his sacrifice to save Harry Potter.

“Hey, Voldemort!” Draco shouted. “Come and get me.” 

“ _ DRACO _ _!_ ” The fear in Harry’s voice was unlike anything he had ever heard before. His voice cracked halfway through it and he screamed his name with such anguish. Draco’s mind made the morbid connection that he had seen and heard many new things that night. 

Draco spoke, his last words, his eulogy. “Harry Potter, the world needs you. Don’t waste your life on me. I’m not good. You are, though.” He spoke to Harry, though his eyes were fixed on Voldemort, who seemed curious to see where his speech would go. 

“I love you, Harry. So, please, my final wish. Run. Run and save the world. Run, and live. Run, so that future generations don’t have to. Run, and be happy. Run, and remember me.”

Everything was silent to Draco. Harry’s screams were silent. Even Voldemort’s words were silent as he shouted a spell and a burst of green light exploded from his wand. He only thought of Harry, those small shared kissed behind tapestries and secret passages. He remembered Harry showing him the Room of Requirement, where they would hold each other throughout the night until the sun rose. He remembered the one day Harry was sick, and Draco pretended to be sick so that he could help Harry get better.

He remembered Harry’s smile, the perfect way the dimples pressed into his cheeks and distorted the small dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks. He remembered Harry’s hair, the unkempt mess that he had run his fingers through countless times, whether he was lying on a couch or lying on a bed, looking up at Harry with so much love in his eyes. 

And his eyes— he remembered Harry’s eyes. He remembered how they would sometimes shift greens depending on the light or what he wore. Sometimes, he remembered them to be a deep pine green, so dark and deep that Draco got lost in them. Other times, he remembered them as a pale mint, sometimes a lime, sometimes emerald, sometimes peridot. 

But never before had their color been the bright, cruel green that the Killing Curse was. He supposed that it was time for his last words. The last thing he would ever say.

“I love y—”

**Author's Note:**

> I really loved writing this and seeing comments really helps me know if people want more of stuff like this, so please leave kudos and comments, it really makes me happy to see that people enjoy my writing.


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